


Stuck on Me

by coolbyrne



Series: The Neighbourhood Watch [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-01 16:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: An otherwise ordinary event pushes Gibbs and Jack into a different stage in their relationship. Out of the mouths of babes, as they say. Slibbs





	Stuck on Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a Kid Trope, but I didn't want to make Nia too precocious or all-knowing. I did a bit of research on the social interaction of 4-year-old kids, so I hope she comes off realistic. Title comes from the Band-Aid jingle, "I'm stuck on Band-Aid brand 'cause Band-Aid's stuck on me." (I can't explain how my mind works!)

He had come upstairs to get his glasses when he heard the sound. Squinting, as if narrowing his eyes could improve his hearing, he grabbed the glasses off the coffee table and walked silently to his front door. There it was again. A whimper. A sniffle. A sob. Cracking open the door, he glanced outside, finding the source on his porch, curled up in the swinging seat. Slowly coming out so he didn’t startle her, he quietly made his presence known with a smile when she looked up.

“Nia,” he said. “What are ya doin’, kiddo?”

The 4-year-old appeared to have been waiting to be asked, because when she opened her mouth, a stream of words came out.

“Danny and Hayden and DeAndre won’t let me play with them and DeAndre pushed me down and I gotta cut and Beyoncé’s face is dirty.”

“Wow,” he replied, over-exaggerating his concern, which seemed to please her. “That sounds like you’ve had a heck of a day.” He caught himself before letting the small swear slip. She nodded, and when he asked if he could sit down, she nodded again. “Let me take a look at your knee.” She immediately dropped her foot in his hand. When he slipped on the glasses he had brought with him, she giggled.

“Those are Jack’s!”

He crossed his eyes as if trying to see the glasses. “Are they?” His feigned confusion made her giggle some more. “I don’t think she’ll mind, do you?”

Nia shook her head. “No. She likes you.”

“Does she?” he asked, bending for a closer look at the scrape. “That’s good, because, don’t tell anyone, but-” he looked around conspiratorially, “I like her, too.”

“Are you going to marry her?”

If there was ever a time he found himself gobsmacked, this was one of ‘em. _Out of the mouths of babes_. “How about we convince her to move in first?”

“Okay.”

That’s why he liked kids- short and to the point.

“In the meantime, I’m going to go get some bandages and clean up that knee of yours, okay?”

She nodded, but quickly added, “What about Beyoncé?”

He looked at the doll that he was sure was Chloe or Cleopatra or something based on how many times he saw the commercial, but he played along. “What happened?” The tears began to well again and he squeezed her foot. “Hey? We’re gonna fix it. I just wanna know what happened.” He gently took the doll in his hand and examined the head. There were some scrapes along the hairline, but nothing was broken.

“DeAndre pushed me down and I fell on top of Beyoncé.”

Gibbs made a note to talk to her older brother about how he treated his sister. In the meantime, he thought the best thing would be to turn it into something positive. “She saved you from getting hurt more. That’s what friends do.”

Nia looked at the doll with a new brightness to her eyes. “She’s my friend.” Then, she glanced up at him. “You’re my friend.”

“I’m your friend,” he agreed. “Would you like your friend to bring you a root beer when he comes back with the bandages?”

“Yes, please!”

“Figured.”

…..

When he came back with the bandages and the beverages, he found her swinging quietly, sharing secrets with her friend. He wondered all the things the doll could tell him if it could speak. 

A different time. A different girl.

He gently pushed the memories aside and came back to the swing. “This is for you,” he said, handing her the brown bottle. “Only had one for you and one for me, so you’re gonna have to share with Beyoncé.”

Nia shook her head. “She doesn’t like sugar.”

“So she doesn’t get any of your candy or soda? That’s convenient.” 

For a 4-year-old, she was more perceptive than he would have given her credit, because the corner of her mouth went up in a little grin.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Just like I thought.” Holding up the Band-Aids and gauze, he said, “One’s for you and one’s for Beyoncé.” Preparing the sterile wipe, he warned, “This is gonna feel cold, but it won’t hurt, I promise.” 

She clenched her jaw and tightened her leg, but when she felt nothing but the cool dampness against her knee, she relaxed.

“Didn’t hurt!”

“See? What’d I say?”

He blew on the scrape to hasten the drying, and she giggled. “That tickles!” 

A devilish flame lit in his eyes. “Oh. Are you ticklish?”

The very word made her squeal so high, he was sure the neighbourhood dogs lifted their heads to see what the hell was going on.

“We’ll save that for a later time,” he said. “When I got my earplugs in.”

The Band-Aid was applied and he sat back to scrutinize his work. “Whattya think?”

She, too, looked at it with a critical eye. “Good! Now Beyoncé.”

Carefully placing her on Nia’s lap, he said, “Hold her still.”

“Do the wipe.”

“I’m gettin’ there!”

“Blow on it!”

“All right, all right.” Dutifully doing as he was told, he leaned closer and blew gently. 

“Now that.” She pointed to the roll of gauze.

“Who’s the doctor here?”

Laughing, she shook her head. “You’re not a doctor!”

“No? What am I?”

“Mom says you’re a police man who works for the gumment.”

He tilted his head until he deciphered the word. “She would be right.”

“Mom’s always right. Daddy says so.”

He tucked his chin into his chest to avoid having to explain his laugh. "Okay, hold her still." Unrolling the gauze around the doll's head, he sang, "Wrap around, 1 and 2, wrap it tight so… it won't show through." There was a line about the blood seeping through that he thought best to leave out. He cut the end, then said, "Now hold it right there so I can put the tape on." He took her tiny finger and put it at the spot. The tape made a sound that made her laugh as he pulled off a long strip. "Watch your finger. There." He sat back again to take a look. "I think she'll be fine. She might have a scar later, but s'okay. Lots of people have 'em."

"Do you have a scar?"

The question, in all its innocence, made him smile. "Sweetheart, I got a hundred." Pointing to a faint mark under his eye, he said, "There's one." He turned his hand over to show a thin white line across his palm. "There." Along his forearm. "Another one."

Her eyes grew wider with each reveal. "You fall down a lot!"

He thought of every scar, every bullet, every knife wound boiled down to the perspective of a 4-year-old. "Yeah, I do."

She contemplated his clumsiness for a second, then kicked out her leg. "Now me."

He frowned. "Already did you."

"No, with that." She pointed to the gauze by his side.

Accepting the thought process for what it was, he shrugged. "Okay. Give me your leg." He sang the song again, this time with accompaniment. She put her finger on the spot without prompting and watched as he put on the tape. "Okay?"

"Good. Now you."

Knowing there was no point being logical, he nodded. With his legs covered, he stuck out his arm instead.

"No," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Like Beyoncé, silly."

This was a good reminder to not trim the trees back so much, he thought, seeing the clear view to the street. And vice versa. But then she looked at him with the brownest eyes and darkest lashes and he knew he was beat.

"Like Beyoncé," he repeated, then leaned forward. 

She sang the song as she wrapped the gauze around his head, and he could only imagine what he looked like. She took his finger and placed it where she needed it, and between the two of them, they cut a strip of tape to finish the job. He sat quietly while she patted his forehead a little harder than necessary to keep the tape on. 

"There!"

"Thank you, Nurse Nia."

Nodding sagely, she sat back and turned her attention to the street and her rootbeer.

“I like quiet.”

His chuckle was low. “Me too, kiddo. Me, too.”

…..

“What in the world?” she whispered, pulling into the driveway. He looked at her from under some kind of head wrap and she laughed, and put the car into park. Grabbing her bag, she closed the door behind her and set the alarm before looking at the porch occupants.

“And how _is_ the war, Gunny?”

“Ask Beyoncé,” he said with a straightface. “She was on the front line.”

Jack knelt in front of Nia. “How about you?” she asked, touching the wounded knee with her finger.

The question allowed the girl to replay her story. “Danny and Hayden and my brother wouldn’t let me play with them and DeAndre pushed me down and I scraped my knee but Beyoncé saved me ‘cause she’s my friend.”

“Wow,” Jack said without a note of teasing. “You’ve had a busy day.”

Nia nodded. “Gibbs gave me a root beer.”

“That was very nice of him, wasn’t it?”

She sipped while she nodded again. “He’s my friend.” Looking at Gibbs, she waved Jack closer. She cupped her hands around Jack’s ear and whispered. 

Jack pressed her lips together to tamp down the laughter and to keep the blush from blooming. “Is that what he said?”

“Uh-huh. Daddy!”

Like a bolt, she jumped off the swing and ran to her father who scooped her up in his arms.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, junebug.”

Gibbs avoided Jack’s sly expression but chastely kissed her cheek on the way to meet the man at the end of the walkup. “Ray.”

“Jethro.” He gave the bandage a side-eye. “I hope everything’s okay.”

Gibbs grinned. “The scrape on the knee is real,” he said, pointing to Nia’s leg. “Beyoncé will heal, and this is just practice.”

“Looks like she needs more practice,” Ray commented with a smile. “Thanks for humouring her.”

“Nothin’ to thank me for,” he said. “She’s a good kid. Ya might wanna have a word with DeAndre, though.”

The sound of her brother’s name set the girl off again. “Danny and Hayden and DeAndre wouldn’t let me play with them an’ DeAndre pushed me down and ran away.”

Ray nodded solemnly. “I see. Well, I’ll have a talk with your brother when we get home.”

“Is he in trouble?” Her tone was less concern and more retribution. 

“We’ll see, Judge Nia.”

“Nope. I’m a nurse. Gibbs said so.”

“Then I guess you’re a nurse.” He stuck out his hand and Gibbs returned the gesture. “Thanks again, Jethro.”

Gibbs watched the two make their way down the street before he turned to Jack who stood watching him. If the smirk on her face was anything to go by, he had a pretty good idea what Nia had told her. The whisper against his lips when he hit the 2nd step from the top confirmed it.

"So you want me to move in, huh?"

He liked the way her arms could lazily rest on his shoulders at this height, the way it brought her hips just a little more in line with his, her mouth right there for the taking.

"That all she tell you?"

Her hum vibrated along his lips. "No. But I took the second part as the obvious conclusion of a 4-year-old." When he didn't respond, she pulled back. "It was, wasn't it?"

His shrug tried to cover the unexpected disappointment that crept up on him from her reaction. She must have felt it in his shoulders and seen it in his eyes, because she kissed him again, this time hard, with unneeded words.

"Let's work on the first part first," she said at last, her lungs sharing his breath. "You really want me to move in?"

He hadn't considered it until he was put on the spot by a child. He had simply grown accustomed to Jack being around, took it for granted that it would always be that way. But now, given the option, he knew the answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Based on the smile that spread across her face, it was the right one.

"Probably not fair to expect you to be the one to move."

She brushed her nose against his to negate his concern. "You've got a house, I've got an apartment. Makes sense. And you're set in your ways."

"I can change that," he promised, meaning it for the first time in years.

Her fingers brushed up from his neck into the short cropped hair. "I don't want you to change. It's one reason why I love you."

Six months in and neither had said The Word, still caught in the feeling out stage, still carrying wounds from long ago relationships. It didn't surprise either of them that she said it first- Jack, who was all life and feeling and honesty- yet he still saw the blush burn her cheeks. Now it was his turn to kiss her hard, to pour every word into the action. 

"That's another reason," she sighed when they pulled apart.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"How many reasons you got?"

Her hands slipped from his shoulders, down his chest to his waist, using it for balance as she went on tiptoes and kissed his bandage. Giving his belt a playful tag, she winked.

"Come inside, soldier and I'll let you find out."

…..

-end


End file.
